Single Ladies
by agnesiest
Summary: A one-shot. Be warned. Darren gets a private show.


**AN: So this is what you call a lunch-time one-shot. And there are no such things as stupid RPFs, only stupid authors. **

**This is a gift for marli-slashs, who was the 100****th**** reviewer of my ongoing story, Irrevocable. Her prompt: **So perhaps a RPF where Darren wants to have a private "single ladies" dance followed with dirty talk sexe (if you can play with this kink).** I hope I have filed this well enough. I also went with exhibitionism, for obvious reasons. Please, all you lovely readers out there, DO NOT send this to the actors. I do not want to sear their brains. As always, Chris and Darren are the biological products of their respective parents, and if anyone could be said to own them, it would be said parents. I am not in any way related to either of them (thankfully – because otherwise, gross!), and so have no chance of owning them. Glee is the biological product of Ryan Murphy the mad-scientist. **

**Enjoy! And review!**

* * *

><p>Single Ladies<p>

Darren walked briskly down the hotel hallway, going over a few song ideas he'd had that day in his head. He was amazed that he could even think about anything besides the tour, but he had to get them down on paper before they disappeared into the hectic confusion that was daily life on the road. He didn't have any notebooks in his room, and he couldn't just write it all down on his computer – for some reason he needed to feel the pen and paper in his hands when he wrote music. Otherwise it just wasn't visceral enough. He knew that most of the cast had gone out to celebrate their last night in Toronto, but he was pretty sure that Chris was still around; Chris rarely went out, preferring to practice or write or, most importantly, sleep when they weren't performing. And Chris would definitely have a notebook because he felt the same way about the need to physically connect with his work. So Darren was jogging down the hallway towards Chris's room, humming to himself, trying to keep the tune that had come to him fresh in his mind.

He stopped in front of the door, his hand raised to knock, when he recognized the music coming from the room. Darren blushed a deep, sudden red as unbidden images of Chris shaking and twirling his hips flew to the front of his mind. Every night he watched the monitors backstage, ostensibly waiting for his cues, but really just waiting for those few minutes when Chris let himself go and seduced the audience with his hips. It was so bizarre, because in rehearsals Chris didn't move anything like that – only when he was in front of the audience did he turn the heat up. Darren watched these performances avidly, his eyes zeroed in on Chris's hips. He remembered the first time he'd noticed that Chris was half-hard throughout the performance. The thought that Chris was turned on – by what? the attention, the exhibitionism, the orgasmic screams of his fans? – made Darren's blush deepen even more, until he was almost impossibly crimson in the face. Chris was listening to Single Ladies behind that door. Maybe he was dancing? Maybe he was hard?

Darren realized suddenly that the tune he'd been frantically humming had totally fled his mind. He cursed slightly, but decided to knock anyway. Maybe he wouldn't be composing tonight, but perhaps something good would come of it. The music clicked off suddenly, and Darren could hear Chris bounding over to the door. It swung open to reveal a slightly sweaty Chris, dressed in a rough approximation of the outfit he normally wore while performing the dance.

"Hi Darren," said Chris, a bit breathlessly. "What's up?"

Darren shrugged nonchalantly, trying to surreptitiously check if Chris had a bulge in his tight pants. Sadly, it seemed he didn't. "I was just wondering if I could borrow a notebook. I had a tune in my head and I wanted to get it down on paper. Though, I have to admit, I kinda lost it when I heard Single Ladies playing. Do you really need to practice that? Can't you do it in your sleep by now?" While saying this, Darren had pushed past Chris, not caring if he was invited in. He went and sat on the bed, looking expectantly at Chris.

"Single Ladies is that catchy, huh?" said Chris snarkily, but he was blushing furiously.

"Something like that," muttered Darren. "Come on, spill. Why the solo performance? And also, since when does wardrobe let us take clothes?" continued Darren, knowing full well that they didn't.

"Oh. Um, well, these are mine actually," stammered Chris, gesturing down towards his body. Darren just raised an eyebrow, schooling his face into an amused, incredulous mask. "I sort of…wanted to recreate the, um, the performance…so of course I had to buy the outfit."

Darren smirked at Chris, raising his other eyebrow. Shock, that was the expression he was going for, but he didn't know if he could pull it off. He needed to play this just right. "That seems like a lot of effort. Why are you trying to 'recreate the performance' here, alone in your hotel room?"

"Swear you won't laugh," said Chris shyly, his head dipping to the side.

"I promise," said Darren, settling his face into a mask of concern.

"Okay. Oh god, this is embarrassing. I, um, I saw a clip online of me performing it in Chicago and it was," Chris paused, coughed once and then continued, "well, it was different from the taped performances I saw for review while we were rehearsing, and I just…"

"Different how?" asked Darren, his face the perfect image of confusion.

"Oh, well…it was sexier, I guess," Chris's voice was going for airy and unconcerned, but it came out nervous and slightly husky. "And you should have seen some of the comments. My fans are totally creepy. But I wanted to…" He drifted off, blushing furiously and staring hard at the floor.

"You wanted to see if you could recreate that sexiness?" Darren asked innocently.

Chris's eyes flew up to meet Darren's for an instant, then immediately flew away. "Yeah. It's a bit weird, I know," he muttered.

"Not weird at all. It's what you're paid to do," Darren replied seriously. "How's it working out?"

"Not so great, actually. I've been dancing in front of the mirror, but it just isn't coming together. I mean, the moves are all there, but something is missing, you know?"

"I think I do. You can't perform for yourself, Chris. You need an audience," Darren said, seemingly calmly, but he was having a hard time controlling his breathing, and his heart was racing.

"An audience?" asked Chris quizzically, his eyes once again flashing to Darren's then leaping away.

"Obviously. It's the one thing you're lacking. You've got the music; you've got the outfit; you've got the moves. You need someone to perform for."

"Right. That…that makes sense," murmured Chris, twisting his hands together. "Um…since you're here, would you mind…"

"Not at all," said Darren, smiling widely. He leaned back on his right elbow and gestured to Chris. "Dance for me."

"O-okay," muttered Chris, blushing furiously. He walked stiffly over to his ipod dock and began fiddling with the buttons.

"Relax," purred Darren. "I won't bite. I promise." He knew he was pushing the envelope, so to speak, but he just couldn't care. He was about to get a one on one view of those hips in action, and he was already so turned on by the thought that any semblance of keeping a professional and friendly distance had fled.

Chris turned around as the beat started, locking eyes with Darren. He didn't look away as he began going through the first moves, but Darren let his eyes wander freely over Chris's body, not caring that Chris could see him checking him out. When Chris got to the part where he began shaking his hips quickly, while simultaneously rolling them, Darren flew up from his elbow and scooted to the edge of the bed, gripping it hard with both hands as he stared avidly at Chris's groin. There it was, that bulge pressing against the front of his tight pants, disappearing and reappearing as he swung his hips back and forth. Darren groaned and whispered, "That is so fucking hot."

Chris stopped moving, even though the music was still playing. Darren dragged his eyes from Chris's semi-hard penis, scanning up his body until he reached his face. "What was that?" asked Chris huskily.

"I said, that is so fucking hot," repeated Darren calmly, looking Chris straight in the eyes. "Please don't stop; I could watch you do that all day." He let his glance flicker once more to Chris's crotch, then back to his eyes. "I can see you getting hard, dancing for me. You get hard for the fans, too. I've noticed. Oh god, how I've noticed. You love the attention; it turns you on. Well, you've got my attention now, so don't stop dancing. I want you to shake those hips until I'm so turned on I can't help touching you."

Chris's breath was hitching in his throat, his fingers were nervously toying with the bottom of his vest, and his eyes were full of panic and lust. "Darren, what are you – "

"Shut up, Chris. You dance; I talk. Got it?" snapped Darren, his eyes suddenly feral. Chris just stared at him for a few moments then nodded abruptly and went over to put the song, which had already finished, on repeat. He walked back towards Darren, standing closer now, within arm's reach of the bed. He began to move to the music.

"That's good," said Darren huskily, running his eyes up and down Chris. "God, you're such an attention whore, aren't you? You just love the thought of what all those people are thinking about you, all the things they're thinking about doing to you, all the things they want you to do to them." Chris was once again rolling and shaking his hips and Darren could hardly stand it, his hands digging into the edge of the bed, his body leaning forward, drawn to Chris's hips. "You're even harder now. I can see it. You're rubbing up against the inside of your jeans with each thrust, aren't you? It's like you're having sex with the air, with everyone who's watching you. With me. You want to fuck me, Chris?" Darren ripped his eyes away from Chris's hips, delving deep into Chris's eyes, seeing the hunger there that had almost completely eclipsed the awkwardness and embarrassment. But those last two emotions were still there, underlying everything else, and they just made it even more hot. Chris had totally given up on the choreography, focusing instead on swinging his hips in Darren's face, slowly, oh so slowly, inching closer. "Well, do you?"

Chris just kept looking down at him, his lips pursed shut, one eyebrow raised.

"Answer me!" barked Darren.

Chris laughed, low and sultry. "I want to fuck you, Darren," he purred, punctuating the sentence with a particularly ostentatious jerk of his hips.

Darren's hands flew from the bed and latched on to Chris's hips. Chris gasped and stopped moving. "Keep dancing," growled Darren as he dug his fingers into Chris's hipbones. Chris swirled his hips slowly at first, and Darren's hands followed them as he rubbed from the top of Chris's hips to his mid thighs and back. Then Chris began introducing little jerks into his swirling, and Darren clamped his hands down again, his thumbs digging into the space just below Chris's hipbones and his fingers splayed back as far towards Chris's ass as he could reach. His eyes were burning holes into the front of Chris's pants, watching as his erection rubbed and stretched against the cloth. "I have to see you," gasped Darren suddenly. "I have to see your cock." His hands leapt to Chris's belt, swiftly undoing it before attacking the top button and zipper. "Tell me you want me to see it, tell me you want me to see your glorious cock exposed and hard and ready to fuck," demanded Darren, his hands paused under the waistband of Chris's pants.

"Oh god, Darren, I want you to see it," Chris stuttered, his hips frantically jerking forward.

Darren pulled forward and down, quickly divesting Chris's hips of his jeans, exposing the bottom of the leotard Chris was wearing underneath. Darren slid his hands between Chris's legs and found was he was hoping was there: three small plastic snaps. He quickly jerked them open and pulled up. Chris's penis sprang free of the binding cloth, and the sight was so beautiful to Darren that he cried out wordlessly in shock. He quickly recovered, though, placing his hands back on Chris's now naked hips, encouraging them to keep moving. "You want everyone to see it, don't you? The thought of exposing yourself, of having eyes rake over your naked body – you're ashamed and turned on, embarrassed and aroused at the thought of all those eyes, all those nasty thoughts, all that lust directed at you. That's what you were missing up here, alone in your room – that lust, rolling off the crowd in waves. Tell me you want that, Chris."

"I want everyone to see," agreed Chris breathlessly. "But I want you to touch, Darren."

Darren growled low in his throat and suddenly stood up, dragging Chris's body flush with his own. Chris kept up the rhythm of his hips, grinding them into Darren with every beat. Darren whined and bit down hard on Chris's shoulder through his vest. Chris began fumbling with Darren's belt, his hands shaky and unsteady from the movement of his hips. Darren pulled back slightly to give him better access, and began undoing Chris's vest. He practically ripped it off, and then he grabbed Chris's hands away from his pants, raised them over his head and swiftly pulled the leotard up and off. Then he grabbed the end of the small tie/scarf around Chris's neck and pulled Chris towards him so that that his lips were directly against Chris's ear. "Get me out of these pants right now," he growled. "And keep dancing." He kept one fist on the tie and lowered the other to Chris's hip, tracing circles in time with the music as Chris gyrated, his hands trapped between them as he worked on Darren's pants. Finally, they were undone, and Darren took a small step away from Chris, his hand still clutching the tie, as he hunched down slightly to peel them off his legs. The movement dragged Chris's head forward and down, and Darren could see him licking his lips as he stared at Darren's freed erection. Darren gave a sharp tug on the tie and said, "Now, now, no getting distracted. It's you they want to see." Chris muttered something that sounded a lot like, 'Tease.' Darren chuckled, kicked off his shoes and the pants pooled around his ankles, released the tie, grabbed Chris by the hips and spun him around, almost causing him to trip over his own jeans, which were still hanging around his knees. Darren squatted to the ground behind Chris, tugging at the jeans, lifting first one leg then the other to pull them off. Then he straightened up, placed his hands once more on Chris's hips, and pushed him over until they were in front of the mirror. "Now you have both a very appreciative audience," growled Darren as he ground his erection into the crack of Chris's ass, "and a mirror to watch yourself in. Best of both worlds. Dance."

Chris locked eyes with Darren through the mirror and began shaking his hips more vigorously, his erection swaying and bobbing in time with his hips. A slight grimace formed on his face as his cock slapped against his stomach, so Darren reached one hand around and lightly grabbed hold of him, saying, "Steady, now. Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Chris eyes focused on himself in the mirror, on his swaying hips and the erection that was pulling in and out of Darren's fist, and the blush that had graced his face throughout began to spread to his entire body. "There it is," said Darren huskily as he began to thrust rhythmically into the cleft of Chris's ass cheeks and between his legs, his head catching every once in a while at the side or the back of Chris's balls. "You love seeing how fucking hot you are, but you're ashamed that you love it so much. Everyone wants you, and you have no idea why. You are so fucking beautiful. You're a god." Darren could feel that Chris was getting close; the circles his hips were making were becoming shorter, swifter and jerkier. "Come on, Chris, come for me, come for all of us. We all want to see it. We want to see you let go and just. Fucking. Come!" Darren tightened his grip on Chris's penis and jerked hard with these last words, earning himself a wailing cry from Chris and the sight of Chris's semen shooting upwards into the air towards the mirror. Darren stroked Chris through it, watching the contortions of his face with something approaching awe. When Chris gave one last shuddering gasp that turned into a whimper at the end, Darren released him and said, "Repeat after me: I am hot as shit."

"I am hot as shit," murmured Chris, his head slumping forward onto his chest and his hips stilling. Darren wrapped his arms around Chris and held him up, his erection still sliding between Chris's legs. "I want to come all over you; I want to see you fucking covered in come." He pulled away slightly and dragged Chris to the bed, pushing him down on his back. Darren straddled Chris, his ass in Chris's crotch, one hand one Chris's shoulder and the other on his own achingly hard cock. He began jerking himself off swiftly, staring intently at the dazed and sated face of the man beneath him. Within moments he was coming, spraying streams of white fluid all over Chris's chest and chin. When he was done, he began tracing his fingers through his own semen, spreading it over Chris's perfect, pale, yet flushed chest. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he sighed, lifting his fingers up to Chris's mouth and painting his lips with come.

"Why didn't you?" murmured Chris, flicking out his tongue to taste.

"You're so unapproachable, Chris. So poised, and so perfect."

Chris laughed wearily. "Not tonight, I guess," he said sardonically.

"No. Still perfect, though." Then Darren leaned down and pressed his lips to Chris's. It was a soft kiss, and he held it as he shifted from Chris's body and curled up next to him. He fell asleep with his lips brushing Chris's.


End file.
